Dans Mon Esprit
by Mad Madame Me
Summary: Christine visits her tutor beneath the opera house when rehearsals for "Faust" run late.


Disclaimer - I don't own _Phantom_. Obviously. Because Erik/Christine is what would have been cannon had Leroux been a sensible woman. Which is what I am; and what, sadly, he was not.

And if I owned Erik...well...nothing would happen because he perfectly loves, and is perfectly _in_ love with, Christine. And, helpless romantic that I am, I can't break up soul mates. So I shall sit and suffer unrequited love.

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**Dans Mon Esprit**

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_Paris, 1870_

_The Opera Populaire_

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**I**t was late. Rehearsals for _Faust _had run longer than planned after la Carlotta near refused to even attend. Only the promise of an increase in salary convinced the diva to stay, and not even Piangi her lover knew what troubled their soprano.

For Christine Daee, the hour was devastating. Her mentor would, of course, know why she had not arrived for their lessons. Though he would not begrudge her tardiness, the unexpected schedule cut short her time with him tonight.

In a word, unforgivable.

She looked forward to nothing more than the precious hours with him. He was dearer now than even the closest of friends and she would have gladly missed rehearsals to spend the evening with him. She would skip _every _rehearsal.

Of all the people in the Opera House, this mysterious tutor alone understood her. He had comforted her in the grief of losing a father, in the confusion of growing into womanhood. While their lessons centered strictly on music, he made a point of talking with her about what he must have called trivial burdens. More touching was his sincere interest in her everyday affairs.

Christine swept the hall with her eyes to ensure Carlotta was nowhere to be found, then slipped into the diva's dressing room. Shutting the door, she crossed to the mirror and caressed the glossy surface. "Erik."

Near eight years before, he had deemed her worthy and appeared in the dressing room after a performance, showing himself for the first time. She'd been frightened at the tall figure cloaked in darkness, whose face was half-concealed in a white porcelain mask she later learned hid a hideous array of disfigured flesh.

But fear, it seemed, was a passing breath. Christine came to enjoy his company and to even forget that haunted face. His lair deep beneath the Opera House was more a home than the barracks of ballet rats.

Tonight, she intended to stay beside him at the organ.

Within the pale image of the mirror, jade pupils flashed in the reflected Christine's eyes. She stared at the sudden figure of another in her place.

"Erik?"

The mirror slid back in answer to her call. As the last inches of glass vanished, the ghostly figure gave a meaningful wink.

Christine paused, unable to tear her eyes away at the masked reflection as it transformed back into a likeness of herself. Taking a deep breath, she calmed unsettled nerves. Nothing but a trick of the light and tired eyes.

Shutting the mirror from behind, she reached for the torch he'd left waiting and began the long descent.

A haunting breath escaped from her lips before she realized the voice was not her own. Shadows flickering in the light of the torch cast black fear against the walls, and Christine shrunk back.

"Father…"

Her eyes shut in a tight seal against tears. She would _not _cry. Not when she had come so far.

With a trembling foot, she stepped forward. If she could only reach the lake, she would be safe. Another step. He would meet her. Protect her. The forced pace quickened to a run.

As she reached the shore, the torch blew out.

Too frightened to scream, Christine froze. Beads of cold sweat formed at the base of her temples and neck. The tears she had fought spilt over her eyelashes in silent cascades. Each trickle of water seemed a horrifying creature bent on murdering her in the night. She fell to her knees, heart racing.

"_Erik!_"

Had the shriek come from her? Christine tried to move, but could not find the strength. A moaning whimper leapt in her throat.

Something hard clenched her chest. Trying to gasp for breath, she trembled in the frigid cold. Eerie lights danced in the shadows, groping at the folds of her dress and hair. The darkness slid over, clammy and wanton.

As though she watched from above, Christine drifted between the worlds of flesh and spirit. Feeling dizzy, she relaxed into the still of death.

Footsteps. She shut her eyes, waiting for the end. "Christine!" The familiar voice above her sent waves of relief through her. Christine looked slowly into the bright eyes of her Angel. Still shaking, she collapsed as his feet in tears as air rushed into her lungs. He knelt and reached to touch her face. "What is it?"

"Make it go away." When he was with her, he made the shadows a part of himself--into a thing of majesty. She longed for that.

Erik paused for only a moment before pulling her into his arms. "Make what go away, chérie?"

"The dark." Christine buried her face in his shoulder and allowed the tears to fall freely. "It was dark when Father died."

"Paix, ange doux." _Peace, sweet angel. _He stroked her hair as a parent might, holding her close. "All is well."

Shaking her head, she looked up with teary eyes. "No."

He took her chin in a calming hand. "Have you eaten today, Christine? You are pale."

"I can't eat." In his eyes, her reflection flickered. She looked down, away from the specter, and pulled his long cloak around her. "I barely sleep. J'ai la tête qui tourne." _My head is spinning_.

"Come, ange." Erik pulled her up. "You must have something."

Christine cried into his shoulder, unmoving. "Why can't I see anything? Why do you walk in my dreams?"

For a long moment, he stared at her. Behind the mask, his eyes darkened with question. "Forget these waking nightmares."

She shivered in his arms. "I can see Father on his deathbed." Looking up with the expression of a drowned soul, she sniffed. "I feel lost and alone. Take me away, Angel. Save me from myself."

"Nothing will harm you so long as I am here, Christine."

But the terrors would not leave. "Don't leave me."

"I promise." Erik touched her face.

Her eyes shut. Crystalline tears leaked through the lashes, forcing a haunted question from her lips. "Why do I feel so lost?"

"Calm yourself, chérie." He stood, bringing her with him. Concern laced the majestic accent she had grown to adore. "You will make yourself sick."

With a whispered note, his voice swirled to enchant her senses and force the waking nightmares far from his world. Erik sang, soft at first, of the mystic and power of shadow, making her yearn to leave the garish light of day and surrender forever to the life he offered.

Unable to resist the harmony she felt when her song twined with his, Christine joined him.

As their voices rose, embracing in a mesmerizing refrain, her heart fluttered. The powerful baritone caressed her soprano, seducing it into familiar peace. As so many of the ballet rats found passion in the arms of their lovers, she felt the intimate ardor in their perfect union of music.

Slowly, they reached the shore and Christine sighed at the gentle flicker of candlelight on water. She turned to smile at her companion. He matched the warmth, lightly touching her face. "No more nightmares?"

She leaned her head against his shoulder. "Not with you. _Never _with you."

"That is good, for your tears are the worst possible torture."

"I am sorry." Laying a hand on the unmasked half of his face, Christine glanced down. "I did not mean to cause you pain."

He laughed--soft and sweet. "Christine, chérie, you must never be sorry for your sadness."

"But if it pains you…"

Erik dared to lay a finger on her lips. "Think no more of my pain."

"It is _all _I think of." She looked into his eyes, brilliant and green, unable to stop herself from confessing. "You are with me wherever I go. I feel you in my heart, watching me. When I look in the mirror, I could swear I see you instead of my own reflection. I cannot close my eyes without seeing what you see. It's as if I am inside of you, and you inside me."

A strange darkness touched his face. He stepped back, staring with an expression akin to horror. "Do you feel well, Christine?"

At his question, peace descended. She understood her nightmares at last. "Yes. I need you, Erik. You complete me."

Still, he would not look at her. "You do not know what you are saying."

She closed the distance between them, taking his gloved hands in hers and smiling. "Je t'aime." _I love you_. Christine pressed her lips to each wrist. "Why did I fight what was meant to happen?"

The vulnerable light in his eyes flickered as he risked a glance. "You can't mean that."

"Touch me." Placing his hands on her face, she leaned into him. A lone tear slid along the curve of her cheek. "_Trust _me."

He brushed it away, unable to bear her torment. Bending down, Erik kissed her cheek, then jumped as a sudden fire spread between them. Their eyes searched one another, as though seeking explanation.

"I love you, Erik." Christine heaved for breath and caught his mouth, gasping as her very soul took flight.

At the touch of her lips, his control shattered. Angel though she might call him, a human could bear only so much. He pulled her to his chest, marveling at how perfectly she fit into his arms. The flames roared, consuming even as they drew them closer, entwining their hearts and minds forever.

_Soul mates._

Erik broke the kiss only because his lungs burned for want of air. Tilting her chin to face him, he pressed his lips to her forehead. "Christine, my angel, I have loved you since the moment I first heard you sing. Your soul--your beautiful soul--touched mine, and I believe we spoke in spirit."

"If my soul is beautiful, yours is exalted." Her breath caught at the feel of his lips on her neck, earning a gentle smile against her skin.

Taking her hand in his, Erik dropped to one knee. "Veux tu m'épouser, mon amour?" _Will you marry me?_

For a moment, she heard only the words. The meaning hit suddenly, and she launched herself into his arms, sobbing. "_Oui_. A thousand times yes!"

He laughed, eyes alight, and spun her several times before catching her lips with his. A wave of joy washed over them, carrying with it a bond that would never be severed. Their joint souls merged and danced in the flickering embrace of twin flames on a single candle.

Finis.


End file.
